Perfectly Imperfect
by aQuietConscience
Summary: "Dumbledore and his ever-ingenious ideas. To be truthful, those very ideas were the pillars which kept London's magical alter ego standing. But when it comes to this, I genuinely believe it's going to fail. Horribly." Chapters inspired by songs R&R PLEASE
1. Prologue

**Summary:**

Dumbledore and his ever- ingenious ideas. To be truthful, those very ideas were the pillars which kept London's magical alter ego standing. But when it comes to this, I genuinely believe it's going to fail. Horribly.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the theme, ideas, characters or anything associated with Harry Potter, and take no credits for Micheal Buble's music & from the lyricist.

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**Author's Note:**

Maybe this chapter doesn't make sense to you, but this was just something I've always wanted to do, give a little more insight into the Grangers. Even though I'm rushing through it, I love the fact that I finally could do this.

Also, this is fairly relevant to the chapters to follow.

And I didn't want to include this as a flashback randomly in between the story, so there.

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**Prologue:**

**Newcastle University, December 1974**

Granger:

Jeremy Granger was a proud young man. Partying came naturally to him, he could hold far more drinks than his friends and he was always the first one to chat up a girl. Saturday nights, like tonight, were for, you guessed it: partying, beer and sex. And, if they could, they would squeeze in some time to boss around the freshmen.

The club closest to the campus was their second home, and Jeremy Granger knew every person who frequented it. To put it correctly, decided who could and couldn't frequent it. After all, he didn't want the club overflowing with freshmen. Usually, not a one freshman was allowed into the building, tonight, however seemed to be different. The new girl seemed to set such a high standard when she walked in, that the rest of the roo"m seemed to pale in contrast. He turned to his friends, they were too drunk to have noticed her yet, and the ones who had, would make the simplest mistakes. _Good for me,_ he thought. _Thanks to their ability to never learn, I think I will strike yet again._

He wasn't someone who would rush in to make his move. He had watched too many men attempt to do that and fail embarrassingly. _The first rule: observe the woman, contemplate the move, and then anticipate the perfect timing. It was an art._

This woman was different from the rest in the bar, that he could make out from the moment she walked in. Just how different, though, he was about to find out.

Harris:

Jean Harris was a smart girl. She knew the difference between right and wrong. And the moment she walked into the bar, her senses kicked in to their high gear, alerting her of the danger from all angles. _Why the hell am I here? I should leave. Right now._

She could leave, she was still in the entryway, at such a point where she could see the bar & dance floor, but no one inside could see her. _It would be like I never even came._

Then she remembered why she had come. Some girls from her Anatomy class had said she was a goody-two shoes, that her parents needn't even worry, she was worse than them herself. So she held her chin high, patted her hair into place, and adjusted her skirt. She slowly walked into the club, making sure to catch the attention of everyone she walked by, girls and guys alike, save for the drunk few in the far corner of the bar. No one had seen this avatar of hers. She had left it behind in her high school years; university had been too tedious for makeup.

She waited for her classmates to realize why their drunken boyfriends stopped snogging or groping at them, waved, and then with a twirl, turned to face the bartender. "Vodka with soda, on the rocks please," her voice, even though partially drowned by David Essex's voice singing Gonna Make You A Star, was heard by many of the drunken boys closest to her. Some of them hooted, but she immediately silenced them by one sharp look. She was handed her drink and she thanked the bartender, who smirked, "Anything for a stunner lady, ma'am."

_I really shouldn't have come. _She sighed.

Granger:

Jeremy smirked. This fresher certainly could hold her own. He watched as yet another guy ambled across the floor towards the bar to get a closer look. At this point one of his own friends decided to make a move. _Amateur,_ he thought, smugly. But he did nothing to stop him. And so he soon stood a few feet away from her, trying to catch her attention without asking for it. She, however, simply watched, amused as he tried to use his two left feet to put together a dance move that worked for him.

Jeremy was now very curious that she didn't even give his friend, a well-known jock, well loved among the girls, a second glance. So he moved closer. This was when his friend decided she was just shy and walked boldly up to her and said, "Haven't seen you around much, girl"

"That line might have worked on a fresher," She smirked and turned back to her drink.

Jeremy was glad he was in ear-shot.

"Not a fresher, huh?" he smiled at the mysterious newcomer. He was also glad he didn't slur his words after two drinks. "So I'm guessing you don't usually come here? I'm Jeremy Granger, by the way"

He extended a hand.

"And I'm assuming _you _are a regular customer at this bar, such a frequent member of the parties here that you believe you should know every person's name that enters here" she raised one eyebrow at the extended hand.

He laughed openly. _The second rule: the ability to laugh at oneself floors even the most hard-to-get ones._

"It _is _true that I am a regular customer here, the rest is an unfair judgement. I only came up to offer my company for a few drinks, if that is acceptable to you, Miss..."

Her stern exterior broke into a smile & relief flooded her features. "Harris. Jean Harris. You have no idea how glad I am that there is _one _person in this bar coherent enough to hold a conversation."

He laughed again, and said "I'm not saying I haven't had a drink. But I most certainly am not drunk."

_The third rule: truth goes a long way, even if it is, just for a night._

"Well, then, I change my statement. I'm glad I have met a man who can hold his drink," she smiled warmly.

_A man who can hold his drink... A man. _No one had ever called him a man before. Well, his father had told him many a time that being a man was what was expected of him, but never had a girl called him a man. It felt nice, almost like a sign saying 'trustworthy' now hung around his neck.

_Trustworthy? Since when am I trustworthy? Snap out of it, buddy._

"I'm glad to be at your service, ma'am"

_Some day, when I'm awfully low, when the world is cold, __I will feel a glow just thinking of you, and the way you look tonight...₁(1)_

Harris:

_Finally, someone remotely normal to have a conversation with. Granted, he does talk a little too much about himself, but this was more than I expected out of this place._

She had been sitting with the man for around 20 minutes when she felt she absolutely had to interrupt him.

_Wait... What was his name again? Wow, Jean, you make a new acquaintance and talk with him for a third of an hour and you don't even know his name? Ridiculous. How am I supposed to interrupt him if I can't even call out? Oh, I know:_

"Would you like to dance?" she smiled as sweetly as she could.

He looked a little surprised, not hurt, but shocked.

"You're a different one, aren't you?" he jested and held out his hand. "For ritual's sake only, madam, would you like to dance?"

She laughed, and accepted. _Maybe this isn't going to be that bad after all, _she thought. Until she heard what song was playing. Barry White's voice belted out 'You're The First, The Last, My Everything' in the background. She blushed, _Thank God it wasn't a slower song_.

Which was exactly when the DJ dimmed the lights and played a slow melody, bringing all the couples out on the floor for a dance. She looked up at him, and he seemed completely comfortable.

_Well, since his head doesn't seem to be wandering into unmarked territories, it should be safe to proceed._

The conversation was still light and friendly, and had moved on to the topic of football. She interrupted him, "Have you ever travelled outside of England?"

He looked a little miffed at the interruption, but said, "Yes, quite a lot actually. Why? Do you like to travel as well?"

"Yes, my entire family does. My favourite place has to be Italy."

"Well... I have to disagree. The Eiffel Tower has to be my favourite place on earth, it is the most romantic structure ever built."

"As opposed to Rome, Venice, Florance and Milan?" She asked, with a slight frown at the disagreement, yet a sense of contentment that at last, the conversation had taken a turn to a topic that allowed her to participate.

Granger:

The evening flew by so fast, that the next thing they knew, it was time for the Girls' Dorm to close. This was usually when he asked her to forget the Dorm & bunk with him for the night. But...

_She said I was a man._

And so he fought the temptation and walked her to the Girls' Dorm.

"Thank you for rescuing me from boredom. I'll see you around, hopefully," she turned to leave.

"You're lovely," he burst out. "Never, ever change."

She turned back to face him.

"What I meant was... Um... I love you... No, I love the way you look tonight."₂(2)

She smiled, and turned again to walk slowly into her Dorm.

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**Author's Note:**

So if you haven't noticed, Hermione's parents' first actual, two sided conversation was that of travel. It was the one common thing that they shared, and barring that, and Dentistry, they had absolutely nothing in common. Dentistry earned them a lot of money, and so, a spacious three-storey house plus terrace and two gardens was what the young couple decided they absolutely needed as soon as they could afford it. They wanted all their curios displayed in such a way as to do each one the justice it deserved. It was that one shared passion that kept their marriage together and their love blooming.

1 & 2: If anyone noticed, they directly referenced The Way You Look Tonight by Micheal Buble.


	2. Chapter 1: Let it Go

**Summary****: **Dumbledore and his ever- ingenious ideas. To be truthful, those very ideas were the pillars which kept London's magical alter ego standing. But when it comes to this, I genuinely believe it's going to fail. Horribly.

**Disclaimer****: **I do not own the theme, ideas, characters or anything associated with Harry Potter, and take no credits for 4tune's music & from the lyricist.

**Author's Note****: **Sorry for disappearing on you guys, but I had to handle a lot of drama that took place in my home and school recently regarding me, and that took a really long time. But, I'm going to have another chapter up this week for sure, so forgive me, please?  
The second thing is, please R&R, readers! It helps the writer a lot. Thank you for showing interest in my story

**Chapter 1****:**

"**Let it Go****"**

D. Malfoy, Mr.:

The ring box sat on the table between us, the _Tiffany's_ embossing on it now seemed intimidating, taunting me. Even though I had gotten off my knees, there still seemed to be a weight in the room. The music in the background, played by the orchestra I charmed especially for the occasion only added to it. I smiled lightly as I remember the first time I had met Astoria.

**Never could imagine life without you,  
from the moment you walked into my world.**

_[FLASHBACK] She was from a company that wanted to raise awareness for the cause to save the world, or so she was saying to my investment advisor, Mr. Kleats._

"_Our cause is entirely legitimate and highly imperative! I assure you, investing in such a campaign would only increase your prof-"_

"_But remember, Ms. Greengrass you are asking for a one million pound donation to a __cause_._ Doesn't that imply that one million pounds from our company's annual budget, which, might I add, had already been presented and agreed upon, only to have our name up on a board alongside your company's?"_

"_I assure you, Mr. Kleats, this is a valid and __relevant__ cause to contribute to... The global state since industrialization has only been deteriora-"_

"_Not to mention, the added cost of re-proposing our budget, and where will we make up the lost million pounds? This company is not large enough to support an Eco-Friendly contract-"_

"_FINE," she cut him off, raising her voice for the first time in the entire meeting. Her eyes swept across the room one final time, eyes that were now aglow in obvious disbelief and resentment. Taking full advantage of the shocked silence that followed, she resorted to her calm exterior display._

"_I regret even offering you the opportunity, Mr. Malfoy," she now spoke directly to me, her voice bitter in defence of her cause. "You shall obviously be very disappointed when people begin to realize the impact of companies like yours on our carbon footprint, and when they rebel against all such companies that refused to cooperate because of the financial costs. When people begin to realize you prioritize money over our future they wi-"_

"_That would be a sorry image indeed, for I am willing to sign the contract, for I made up my mind the moment you walked into the room. If you choose to retract your offer, I would be very disappointed indeed," a smile was now tugging at my lips at the sight of her stunned face. "Despite how it may seem, Ms... Greengrass, I believe? Mr. Kleats is __my_ _employee, it is not the other way around. I still make the decisions around here." [END FLASHBACK]_

**Never knew how long a loving flame would burn,  
but losing you has forced me to learn**

Our chemistry was undeniable. We knew how to flirt, we knew exactly how to please each other in bed. The first few weeks, our love was like an insatiable fire, and everything we did seemed only to fuel it. Everything about her was intoxicating, her chocolate brown hair that somehow always smelled like oranges, her lips and her strawberry chapstick, and even how she never seemed to tire despite spending the entire day at some protest or other. We began to slowly get to know each other, and our families. Our families were perfect, we thought. We were the perfect match, according to everyone we knew. Our family backgrounds matched, and our fiery personalities seemed to spark with just the right amount of playfulness at our parties. But that very part of our personalities made it difficult to ever have a fight without it getting serious. Because when we began to discuss any serious matter and our opinions clashed, our arguements seemed to have no end.

**that we can't change the way we feel inside  
and every try at love never turns out right**

**We both know it's better if we just let it go...**

Soon the opinions seemed to clash at _every_ issue. We first started to blame each other for purposely trying to ruin our relationship. Then we both tried to compromise our values to please the other. The result: a solution that pleased neither. And recently, the fights had become too common, we were getting used to it. The definition of our relationship was now our daily fights, with the occasional love-making. The whispers of sweet nothings from our past seemed to echo through the rooms of our apartment and the pressure behind the forced smiles made us claustrophobic. It was my mother who proposed this as a solution.

I looked up at the woman to whom I had just proposed that we spend our entire lives together. She was waiting, flinching, as though expecting me to have some cold, unfeeling response to her refusal. Instead, I smiled.

**So let's have one last kiss, one last touch,  
one last tender moment between us,  
one last dance to our first song**

Struck by Merlin knows what inspiration, I got up, and with a flick of my wand, the orchestra started to play Unchained Melody. I turned around to face Astoria, only to see a small, sad smile on her face. Memories seemed to have that affect on people.

"May I have this dance?" I smiled when she reached out and accepted my offer.

Unchained Melody. It was a remarkable piece of music, almost too perfect a choice for our song. Just like us, it was too perfect to be true. Which is why we had reached this point. I looked down at Astoria, and I knew we were both thinking of the time we've spent together. Two whole years.

**while pretending there's nothing wrong.  
Let's lay here for a while and  
cherish every moment in denial. **

**We both know it's better if we just let it go...**

But for now, we smile. She kisses me softly as we sway to the music, I only smile in return. As the song nears it's end, Astoria reaches her breaking point and lets one tiny teardrop fall through her smile. I look at her and try to find the strong woman I fell for. When I realize what I had done, that I was the reason why she gave up her strength, something inside me burns. I kiss the teardrop away, and she looks up longingly. We know what's going to happen next. But in that moment, all that matters is who we were, ages ago, when the problems weren't there. Somewhere in the background, the phone rings. Normally this would annoy me to no end, but I barely notice it, because in this moment, it was only about us.

**Every time I try to make a stand at all  
I see your face again and I fall**

The woman in front of me was broken down, tired and frustrated, and it was my fault. I remember her confident demeanour, her graceful poise, and kiss her furiously, as though that would somehow erase the past couple of months; as though one night would erase them from my memory and hers. I _do_ love her.

I hated myself for what I did to her. With these thoughts running through my mind, I devour her, as though tonight I could compensate for everything else.

**In the middle of the night there's the scent of a rose  
the smell of your perfume I suppose.**

I wake up in the middle of the night, and just watch her sleep. I watch her chest rise and fall with her slow, deep breaths. I kiss her forehead softly. I inhaled her scent; she smelled of flowers and her orange shampoo. I _do _love her. Everything about her is beautiful.

**But we can't change the way we feel inside  
and every try at love never turns out right**

I walk out to our living room and clear the table of everything except the champagne bottle and my flute. I pour myself a glass and wonder why she doesn't love me.

_Love me?_ I laugh scornfully at myself. No one had been able to do that, not even Pansy, the school slut. My relationship with her had ended when I saw her seducing Longbottom. I guess after the war, being with a man so intricately attached to the "_Dark Side"_ wasn't working out so well for her. Luckily, Astoria had walked intomy life at the perfect time. So how could she not love me?

**So let's have one last kiss, one last touch,  
one last tender moment between us,  
one last dance to our first song  
while pretending there's nothing wrong.  
Let's lay here for a while and  
cherish every moment in denial. **

She saved me. Of course she loves me. We love each other. We always have. We always will. I walk back into our room. Astoria's bedside clock reads 3 am. She opens her eyes and looks at me, and I crawl in next to her. I wrap my arms around her and she lays her head on my shoulder. We just stayed there, wishing that the night would never end, because what's so simple in the moonlight by the morning never is.

**We both know it's better if we just let it go...**

But morning comes, and we return to our daily routine. Work suddenly seems very important as we both try and avoid what was to come, even though we knew it was for the best. She is ready before me, as usual, and stops to give me a quick kiss before she leaves. After her lips leave mine, she lingers there for a moment, as though she wanted to say something.

**Maybe if we met each other under a different sky,  
maybe then things would be much better between you and I.**

Her eyes well up again, and I understand what she wanted to say in that moment.

"It's okay," I manage to say before walking to the kitchen table and picking up the _Tiffany's_ box.

**We can always hold on to this one special thing we share,  
but it would be too much for us to bear.**

She stays silent, obstinately looking at anything but the object in my hand.

"I'll return it," I say.

"I'm sorry," she turns her back to me so I can't see her cry.

**So let's have one last kiss, one last touch,  
one last tender moment between us,  
one last dance to our first song  
while pretending there's nothing wrong.  
Let's lay here for a while and  
cherish every moment in denial.**

"I'm sorry too," I walk up to her and put my arms around her. She holds me tight until her tears stop flowing.

**We both know it's better if we just let it go...**

"I can't do this anymore, Astoria, I love you, but I can't... I'm sorry"

I do love her. I'm just not _in love_ with her.

Author's Note: Please REVIEW if you got this far, I would really like to know how I'm doing, or if I should do anything differently.  
I'm trying really hard to associate songs into this fic because songs gave me the idea for the character's histories. There might be some chapters (or parts of chapters) without songs at all, so forgive me for jumping around like that.  
Also, I intentionally jumped from one plot to another. Please bear with me, I know this is hard, but please try


	3. Chapter 2: A Foggy Day In London Town

**Summary****: **Dumbledore and his ever- ingenious ideas. To be truthful, those very ideas were the pillars which kept London's magical alter ego standing. But when it comes to this, I genuinely believe it's going to fail. Horribly.

**Disclaimer****: **I do not own the theme, ideas, characters or anything associated with Harry Potter, and take no credits for the music & from the lyricist.

**Author's Note****: **Please REVIEW if you got this far! I know there are people reading my fics, but I need to know if you like it or not, so please, review?

Megan Elizabeth York: Thank you for the much needed support! :)

Also: Thank you, HermioneRavenclawMalfoy, Rose-Blue775, parttimereader and dxsecret.

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**Chapter 2****:**

**"****A Foggy Day (In London Town)****"**

H. Granger, Ms.:

London really _is_ a magnificent city. There are times when I truly miss living and working here. The constant hustle on the streets, the calm confidence in the stride of passersby: all inciting a feeling of ambition and uplifting my mood. But then I remind myself of the reason why I moved. Walking through these streets brought back bittersweet memories.

**I was a stranger in the city****  
****Out of town were the people I knew**

I remember the view as my flight was landing into Heathrow Airport. The streets were filled with nooks and crannies where I used to study, party or just hideout from the stress of life. Among the many rows of houses there was one that held most of those memories: my family home, my _now empty_ family home. The muggle society that my family was part of was one of the first that the death eaters chose to destroy. Families I grew up among were torn apart, homes shattered. My parents of course were safe from all this destruction. We couldn't afford the risk of a mass-evacuation of all the families we knew. So I had to sacrifice the lives of those people to ensure that the safety of the wizarding world wasn't compromised. _Voldemort couldn't know that we knew._ _That we were planning. _I still feel the guilt of letting them die when I could have saved their lives.

**I had that feeling of self-pity: ****  
****What to do? What to do? What to do?****  
****The outlook was decidedly blue**

Tears now flowed in trickles down my face. My neighbours: they were my first friends. The memories of those community barbeques and the garage sales in our backyard surfaced. I drew a shaky breath and blinked away the tears. Those memories were nothing but a weakness. I concentrated on the job at hand. I was walking towards the Ministry, because apparently there was something of utmost importance to discuss. I still don't know who I'm meeting there, because all the message on my answering machine gave away was the urgency in the voice of the caller.

**But as I walked through the foggy streets alone****  
****It turned out to be the luckiest day I've known**

I looked upwards. One could hardly make out outlines of the Parliament House, nor the top of the London Eye. The fog had, as usual, been a problem while landing in London. If it hadn't been for the fact that I was quite good with weather charms, we would have spent a good 45 minutes landing. Winter mornings in London were quite decidedly _not_ my favourite part of waking up in the city, I thought as I stuffed my hands deeper into my jacket. But at least I get to catch up with people I haven't met for a _long_ time. A resonant pang of guilt made me uncomfortable.

**A foggy day in London Town****  
****Had me low and had me down**

But the fog had gradually started to clear as tiny, ice cold water droplets began to shower down from the sky. Great. Now I either stop in the middle of the street in freezing weather to search out my umbrella from my bag (which, mind you, was still packed full of things like bags of chips, packets of gum, my neck pillow, etc. that I require for air travel), or turn up to the meeting (where Merlin knows _who_ would be present) with _disastrous _hair. I decided to hope the drizzle would eventually die out, because removing my hands from their warm nook inside my pockets seemed criminal.

**I viewed the morning with alarm****  
****The British Museum had lost its charm**

Around 10 minutes away from the new Ministry access point, it began to pour. _Ugh, _I shuddered. I began to remember just why I hated winters here. I ran to the closest point of cover I could see. I ended up right in front of the British Museum: my favourite place to visit in my childhood. Tears began to well up in my eyes again as I reminisced of lazy afternoon visits to this wonderful palace of knowledge with my father, but this time they weren't tears of sadness, but _anger._ I was frustrated. I was tired. And I was back home.

**How long, I wondered, could this thing last?****  
****But the age of miracles hadn't passed, **

I had vowed _never_ to return here. All because of some ridiculously vague message left on my answering machine. What was I thinking? I finally dug out my umbrella from under the huge pile of things in my bag and started walking out as I fumbled with the strap, and finally managed to open the damned thing just before I left the shelter of the roof atop.

"_Ouch! Bloody hell?" _someone yelped as I opened the umbrella right in their face. That voice was all too familiar.

**for, suddenly, I saw you there****  
****and through foggy London Town****  
****the sun was shining everywhere.**

"Ronald!" I smiled out of pure happiness for the first time since I landed home.

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**Author's Note:** I _know_, I know. This is an unacceptably short history or introduction for a main character. But again, bear with me.

Also: I would really like it if you left a REVIEW every once in a while, just to let me know you're there, readers.


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